Dufftown Local Song 1859

  1. Our castles- their grass grown turrets,
    Their ramparts and’ battlements gay-
    Our stanes, the memento o’ heroes,
    And graves, where their ashes decay.
  2. Our courts, an’ our councils, an’ a’,
    Our wisdom, an’ justice, an’ law;

    Our jail, wi’ its bonnie bit steeple,
    The bell, an’ the knockie, an’ a’.
  3. Hurra for our lith sheltered forest,
    Our streamlets, an’ brown heather hills;
    Our haughs, and green airn bogies,
    An’ funes of our auld fusky stills!
  4. Our wells o’ medical water –
    Strong Tulloch, an’ famous Corsmall –
    For curing the gout an’ the gravel,
    Rheumatics, an’ cholic, an’ caul’.
  5. Cures influenza, an’ a’,
    Dull melancholy, an, a’,
    Wi’ a dram, an’ a yauch to’ the Fiddich,
    Gaes pleasantly rifftin’ awa !
  6. O we ha’e a house fu’ o’ a’ thing
    That comforts an’ elevates man –
    Guid corn, potatoes, an’ curlies,
    Grow rich on the Fiddichside lan’.
  7. Our forests o’ deer, an’ blaeberries,
    An’ gowans, an’ bicks o’ the braes

    Wi’ cowslips – an’ sweet-singing birdies,
    An’ hippins, an’ fine sappy slaes.
  8. Muircocks o’ the Convals an’ a’,
    Dubricks in Fiddich, an’ a’;
    Hurra for the clip, an’ the cruise,
    The spear, an’ the knappics, an’ a’.
  9. Roun’ Anderson’s cairn are divots,
    An’ turfs o’ the high staney lair;
    In the moss there are broad starry shirrels,
    An’ fittins for ever, an’ mair.
  10. We’re fouth o’ black peats in Glenmarkie,
    To swell out our snug-bigget lets;
    The Knockie has ruthie abundance
    O’ tapin’s an’rosety reets.
  11. Hurra for our Tibbies and Jeanies,
    Sae bonnie, an’ thrifty, an’ braw;
    Our jockies, an’ Jamies, an’ Geordies,
    Will mak’ couthie men to them a’.
  12. Hurra for the rants o’ our country,
    For Bannock-night, Yule, an’ New Year
    When butter an’ cheese, ale an’ whisky,
    Abound in the Fiddichside cheer.
  13. Our roups, an’ raffles, an’ a’,
    Our cilaks, an’ kirsnin’s, an’ a’;
    Our markets, an’ spirited weddings,
    Our balls, an’ our gatherings, an a’.
  14. Respect to our grandfathers cantie –
    Their white locks and bonnets o’ blue;
    The tales an’ exploitso’ their young days,
    Sae wonderfu’, funny, an’ true.
  15. Now here’s to the firesides o’ Mortlach,
    The oies aroun’ Jamie’s Chair.
    Discoursin’ o’ foregoes an’ fairies,
    An’ fairlies uncommonly rare.
  16. The bowl an’ the cuttie an’ a,
    The mither’s wheel birrin’ an a’,
    The whelpie an’ tortoise-shell kitten,
    An’ porridge-cap reeking an’ a’.